Stands with benefits
by TraditionalGaily
Summary: In which Abbacchio and Buccellati share some after work kiss, cuddle second-hand.


_[Summary]_

_The say Stand users are drawn to each other by forces beyond human understanding. _

_Abbacchio just wishes it to be normal what his and Buccellati's Stands are doing. _

_Probably all Stands do it. _

_But he is too afraid to confirm that. _

* * *

_In which Abbacchio and Buccellati share some after work kiss, cuddle and shag second-hand._

* * *

_What is a Stand?_

Abbacchio remembered asking himself that when he first saw the retro-futuristic wet-dream of a DJ in pastel blueish-purple.

Something about psychological power and strength.  
So it was only natural to take on the form fitting for their user.  
Purple Haze was Fugo's repressed homicidal side which God forbid would hopefully stay that way; Narancia's Stand exposed him as the boy he still was with his toy airplane; an entirety of 6 contradicting Stands made Abbacchio question Mista's sanity and only God knows what fancy manifested in zipping shut, open or apart in Buccellati's case.

Moody Blues was the ultimate copper Stand, true. Reconstructing, re-enacting in fact, every little move would sure have come in handy back then.  
Anyway Abbacchio resented the choice in colour, especially that white part that made his Stand look like he was wearing hooker boots that stopped right below his well-curved ass.  
Too eighties overall and Abbacchio would rather die than let anyone find out that he secretly had a thing about the style.  
The flashy, métallisé texture was nice, though.  
And the speaker for eyes thing.  
It made him hard to read.  
Not that he ever needed to.  
Moody Blues would abide to his every command unquestioned.

He did have his vagaries, though….

And they were what Abbacchio found grossly disturbing as of late.

Being able to see other Stands was part of the whole set.  
It could be a burden sometimes.

Right now for instance Abbacchio wished he couldn't.

Sticky Fingers was giving him _that_ look again.

With Buccellati comfortably curled into the other end of the couch, engrossed in his book (which Abbacchio knew to be a cheesy romance novel hidden by some neutral cover and didn't blame him for his easy read after a messy mission) there wasn't much to do for his Stand but to recline.  
And prevent Abbacchio from enjoying his tea (Buccellati had confiscated his secret stash of 'spiritual' guidance until further notice and after a long day like this Abbacchio usually was too tired to argue).

Why Buccellati would let him detach was still a mystery.  
Something about treating him after a hard day's work.  
Abbacchio had suggested a basket in front of a fireplace and a rubber bone.  
Thus terminating the conversation involuntarily.

It was fitting though.  
The look Sticky Fingers shot him once they were separated was of the canine persuasion.  
He didn't even need eyes to do so.  
Abbacchio could feel it; the puppy eyes of a cocker spaniel resting upon the wielder of a turkey sandwich.

And Abbacchio damn well knew what Sticky Fingers was begging for...

"You're spoiling him," Abbacchio snarled in between uncomfortable sips.

He could feel Sticky Fingers' eyes hidden by the strange visor following his every movement.

What a fucking nuisance he could be.  
He must have learned that 'staring down' part from Buccellati…

"Wouldn't hurt, if you did the same once in a while," Buccellati mumbled into the cushions.

It was unnatural.  
Abbacchio just knew it to be not natural, but he couldn't fight it.  
Especially not with Buccellati taking _their_ side.

"Fine," Abbacchio mouthed, porcelain clinking as the cup landed back in the saucer.

Fuck this persistent stare.  
Fuck understanding Buccellati.  
All he wanted was five minutes in peace.

For a moment greenish-blue outlines flickered around pissed off Abbacchio before the shimmering slick body that put you in mind of neon lights, roller skates and aerobics appeared.  
And left Abbacchio's side as expected to join the other Stand.

Abbacchio watched with mixed-feelings Moody Blues and Sticky Fingers sharing their quality time.  
And wished they had vanished from his field of view, preferably behind the sofa, so he wouldn't have to.  
And wished he couldn't hear Moody Blues clicking and churning with delight.

Is it normal for a Stand to befriend with a fellow Stand?

Not talking about mutual aid in combat, but what seemed to be affection.  
Well, it did look to Abbacchio like bros hanging out together, enjoying a few beers (metaphorically speaking) with the missus out (again with the metaphor) and talking about everything under the sun.  
Okay, they never talked.  
But the way they sat side by side in silence made Abbacchio wonder if there was some sort of inter-Stand communication.

Sometimes the strange pair would stay that way.  
Their faces only inches apart, eyeless gazes staring while they appeared to share some thoughts in tranquillity.

Today was not one of those days...

Abbacchio gasped but changed quickly into a growl as he felt Sticky Fingers hand grab Moody Blues shoulder, stroking it fondly in further process.

It was strange, strange how he would never get used to the tactile bond he shared with his Stand.  
And fuck did Sticky Fingers nipping and sucking at his Stands neck feel like Buccellati doing so...

Abbacchio refilled his cup and tried drifting into a private little world of his where his Stand wasn't as needy.  
Unsuccessfully.

He bit his lip as he felt Sticky Fingers' warm thighs underneath his fingers as Moody Blues was returning the favour.  
A ghostly hand running down his pelvis before grabbing onto his hips, did it then.

Abbacchio was about to interrupt their Stands' tryst with an obscene curse and a warning growl aimed at Buccellati.  
It didn't come out however as his lips, or better Moody Blues' lips(which he didn't have) were sealed by Sticky Fingers' in what could only be described as unsuccessful attempt to suffocate the former as Abbacchio was gasping for air.

Sticky Fingers was now straddling Moody Blues as Abbacchio could feel the weight pressing down on his hips and crotch as they continued to make out.  
The churning and clicking increased as Sticky Fingers was dry humping the Stand underneath him, rutting against Moody Blues in what had to be pure bliss.  
It was the only explanation for the mortifying noises coming from his Stand. And God, he knew Buccellati could hear them too...

Funny really, considering that none of their Stands had genitals.  
Unlike Abbacchio who could feel his pants tightening during the foreplay he was involuntarily participating in.

The hands Sticky Fingers was running down Moody Blues' chest that made Abbacchio's nipples hard under the shared touch he would have put up with.  
But the tongue shoved down his throat was intolerable.

And pretty impressive, Abbacchio had to hand it to him. Taking into account that Moody Blues didn't have anything that would classify as mouth.  
And fuck, Sticky Fingers shared Buccellati's sneaky tongue.  
Not that Abbacchio had been kissed this way by Buccellati before.  
At least not when he was sober.  
God, he needed a drink...

Abbacchio looked at the curled up ball of capo for support.  
Who, unlike him, didn't seem to be bothered the least by their Stands making out so shamelessly on the living room rug.  
If it wasn't for the occasional gasp or long-drawn moan if Moody Blues had touched/rubbed/kissed/and the Devil knows what else the right spot, Abbacchio would have questioned whether Buccellati shared the same embarrassing physical bond.

Buccellati purred at the ghosting feeling of Moody Blues running his finger down Sticky Fingers' spine.  
And sighed and moaned quietly in between turning of pages as their Stands decided on going all the way.  
Thus proving in the process, as Abbacchio mused, that a Stand possessed not an ounce of shame.  
Or at least these two speciminar they had been punished by.  
Now he really needed a drink...

Clicking and whirring noises and the call never to be answered blended into the rhythmical clinking of metal zippers as Abbacchio watched in an unhealthy mixture of disgust, forced arousal, ambivalence and a pinch of amusement the two romping around on the floor in excitement.

He took a sip fighting off the urge to cream his pants instantly as Sticky Fingers was riding Moody Blues.

He really hoped they weren't trying to breed.  
God, he really hoped they weren't able to breed.

Abbacchio glanced over at Buccellati who on the whole seemed still unaffected. That was until he saw his free hand digging into the couch and the rhythmical shivers running through his body.  
And perhaps it was only his horny imagination, but he could have sworn Buccellati was shyly dry humping the pillow between his legs...

Stands were conscious beings, Buccellati had said when Abbacchio had had his first doubts, so it was only normal for them to befriend with fellow beings.

Well, normal my ass, Abbacchio closed his eyes as he unzipped his pants.  
Of course he could have called back his Stand and hopefully he would have obeyed. Or he could just have walked out of the room, thus forcefully dragging Moody Blues from Sticky Fingers range.  
But he didn't for two reasons.  
a) It'd still be coitus interruptus and he hated getting blue balled by his own Stand.  
b) He was horny as fuck, hadn't beaten off in a while and was just too tired to care he wasn't in his safe harbour for sexual adventures, hence his room with the lights turned off and curtains drawn.

If anything Buccellati was fighting off the same urge to scream and moan like an animal as he was rubbing himself furtively through his slacks.  
At least _he_ knew not to cream his pants like a teenager, Abbacchio thought as he freed his erection from the tight confinement of his pants.

They got it over with as quickly and as civilized as possible and what remained of their dignity was saved by the two of them pretending to have gone momentarily deaf during their releasing grunts.

The Standian love birds were no longer pushing and shoving their way over the rug, but had settled for a bit of after-joy spooning.

Abbacchio took pride in Moody Blues being a top Stand and felt awkward for feeling that way.  
Also he wondered if he could get rug burn from his Stand.

Buccellati, who had until now stayed quiet presumably convincing himself he hadn't just gotten fucked through his Stand, was clutching the book, same page open for several minutes now.  
Not that he could have fooled anyone into believing he was still reading...

Buccellati's yawns and sighs as he stretched extensively broke the awkward silence.  
He sat up, hair a bit ruffled and with an air Abbacchio colloquially referred to as post-coital-perplexity.  
Ignoring Abbacchio's still flushed cheeks he helped himself to some tea and leaned back yawning.  
And almost choked on his first sip.

"It tickles..." he mumbled in between giggles, his nails digging into his sides.

Abbacchio glanced at the cuddling blue monstrosity; Sticky Fingers, heavily spooned by his churning worse half, humanoid fingers gently running down the former's thighs and hips.

"I'm ticklish...Tell him...to stop," Buccellati chuckled as Moody Blues circled his Stand's hips.

"Sorry," Abbacchio retorted and felt a bit guilty for enjoying Buccellati like that, "nothing I can do here..."

That was when the first pillow hit his face.

An immature yet refreshing fight later, and oh had he taken advantage of the newly acquired fact about Buccellati's strange tickle zones, Abbacchio was lying on the couch, Buccellati collapsed on top of him in mid charge.  
Rumours about the lipstick stains on the pillow would come to haunt him, he was sure of that.  
Especially with the hickeys on Buccellati's neck and oh God, did he have them as well? Can a Stand pass them on too?

Abbacchio looked over to them, awkwardly realising in how similar positions they had ended up.  
Moody Blues did have the decency to look somewhat apologetic and/or embarrassed. Or that was just wishful thinking.

What is a Stand?

What is _his _Stand really, but a lovesick fool…

"What are they?"

Buccellati had followed Abbacchio's gaze to the cuddling mass.

"Stands with benefits," Abbacchio said matter-of-factly.


End file.
